


From the Last to the First

by sami



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post Season 2 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:16:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sami/pseuds/sami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Victoria didn't blame you," he says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Last to the First

**Author's Note:**

> "Next to a battle lost, the greatest misery is a battle won." - the Duke of Wellington.

When he sees the Camaro, he still has time to swing back onto the road and find another gas station. He's already in the turning lane, but the road behind him is empty. He doesn't have to pull up behind the sleek black muscle car, doesn't have to meet its owner's eyes. He does it anyway.

Derek Hale is standing by the pump again. Once again he puts the hose away as Chris turns off his SUV. This time Chris is alone, but Derek still watches him warily, his expression shuttered.

It would be easier if he could hate him, if he could make Derek Hale the target for all his grief, his pain, his loss, if he could look him in the eye and tell him it was all his fault, but he knows better, and right now all he can think about is what he said the last time they'd met like this. He'd taunted him with the memory of Derek's murdered family. He and his hunters had Hale outnumbered, and he'd smirked at the werewolf's impotent anger.

Looking back, he can't help but wonder if things might have gone less thoroughly to hell if he hadn't done that. They might have maintained some kind of ceasefire, and better hunted the murderous alpha. He might still have his pride, and his daughter might still have her mother, if only he'd never mocked a man for the dead children Chris's own sister murdered.

He can't hate Derek Hale, but he's got a pretty good shot at hating himself right now.

He gets out slowly, making sure his hands are visible. Derek is watching him, but Chris sees his eyes flick to their surroundings, sees him inhale carefully, testing the air. He's looking for other hunters.

"I'm alone," Chris says. "Just getting gas." He goes to the pump, touches the hose, then lets his hand drop and turns back. Derek is still watching him, frowning faintly, like he's still waiting for the trap to spring. Chris is starting to think that Derek's not going to get into his car until he's gone. He'd have to turn his back on Chris to do that, after all, and right now Derek doesn't even seem to be blinking.

He remembers Derek Hale before the fire, when he followed Kate around like a lovesick puppy. Chris had argued with their father about it, about letting Derek hang around his sister. The kid had a crush on Kate that would be visible from the moon, and even if he was young and bright-eyed and called even Chris 'sir', he was still a werewolf, still a monster. Gerard had told him to drop it, lectured him about the Code and reminded him that the Hales hadn't ever hurt anyone.

The irony is almost physically painful.

"You know," he hears himself say, and then has to stop, look away, stare at the grease-stained concrete and take a breath because his voice is raw and breaking and he hasn't really said anything yet. Derek doesn't say anything, doesn't move, could have turned to stone when Chris pulled in for he could tell.

He starts again. "I was raised to be a soldier." He looks up again, sees Derek still watching him, guarded. "The Argents have been hunters for generations. We've spent centuries killing monsters in the night. We've had a purpose." Derek's expression is tightening, and Chris sighs. "We were never supposed to become the monsters. Everybody loses. I'm pretty sure you've noticed. My family destroyed yours, and now -"

He stops. Scrubs a hand across his face, because this is not the time or place, and takes another breath, slow and shaky. "Victoria didn't blame you," he says, forcing himself to meet Derek's eyes. "She knew what she was doing when she married an Argent. She knew that war has consequences." Another breath. All of it was true, and none of it stopped it hurting.

"I'm sorry," Derek says quietly.

Chris feels tears tracking down his own cheeks, and nods. It had been dark, and the air was full of wolfsbane. Victoria had thought he had been aiming for the throat, and missed, and that they were probably lucky they had their chance to say goodbye; she'd mistaken a beta for an omega. She wasn't the first Argent to discover that that was a fatal mistake.

"I want this to be over." Chris knows that he sounds like he's pleading, and hates it, but he can't quite make it stop. "We took everything from you, and I can't change that, but I want it to stop while I still have Allison. While she has me. I don't want her to be alone, Derek. None of this is her fault."

Derek stares at him. "Say it again." A growl threads through his voice. Derek has no reason to listen to an Argent, but he'll still trust an Argent's heart. The irony of that is almost poetic.

"I want this to be over," Chris says, his voice almost steady. "I want peace between your pack and my family." He leans against his car, and sighs. "I want to live by the goddamn Code."

Derek Hale nods, and extends a hand. His fingers end in claws, viciously sharp, but Chris knows that symbols are important. So is trust. He can feel the razor tips touch his skin as they shake, but when he draws back his hand, there's not a mark to be seen.

"Drive safely," Derek says, and then he turns his back on Chris Argent and drives away.


End file.
